The leading squad leader, a young civil engineer named Hassan, quickly stepped forward and shouted in Arabic at the group of "uninvited guests" busy deploying:
"This is the 'Liberation Forces' controlled area! Who are you? You cannot land and deploy military forces here without permission! Identify yourselves and your intentions immediately!"
However, Sanders seemed to not hear the warning at all, or perhaps he heard it but completely dismissed it.
He didn't even look directly at Hassan, but just took off his sunglasses and, with his hawk-like sharp and arrogant eyes, swept over his subordinates spreading out, then loudly ordered in English loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Group A, keep your eyes open! Establish a solid circular perimeter; I don't want anyone who shouldn't be here to get within a hundred meters!"
"Group B, speed it up! Get those precious pieces of equipment unloaded, prioritize setting up communications and detection gear!"
"Group C, stop sightseeing, I want to see coordinates for all possible sniper and fire points marked on my map within half an hour! Move it! We're not here on a vacation, there's no time to waste on these...
He paused, seemingly searching for an appropriate word, then spat it out loaded with undisguised contempt.
"...don't waste time on these 'natives'."
His outright disregard and insulting words instantly ignited the militiamen's anger.
Captain Hassan's face turned bright red, he stepped forward a few more paces, almost shouting, waving his arms forcefully:
"Listen! I don't care who sent you! This is the 'Liberation Forces' defense zone! We have our orders and rules! Cease all your activities immediately, state your identity and purpose! Otherwise, we will consider your actions as hostile invasion and take all necessary measures!"
This time, Sanders finally seemed a bit annoyed by the buzz, turned around leisurely.
On his face, a mix of extreme impatience and blatant mockery, he gave Hassan and the poorly equipped militiamen behind him a once-over and responded in rigid yet fairly understandable Arabic:
"We are Thunder Defense."
He deliberately emphasized this name, as if it were a remarkable sign.
"Based on a direct agreement with the United States Central Command, stationed here for defense, to assist—note, 'assist'—regional security. This is a designated flank 'cooperation area', got it? Cooperation. Not a jurisdiction decided by you."
He intentionally stressed the "agreement with the United States Central Command" again, clearly intending to use Washington's authority as leverage.
"Cooperation? We have received no notice of any external forces entering our defense zone for 'cooperation'!"
Captain Hassan stood his ground, and the militiamen behind him also raised their rifles, the barrels not fully lifted yet, but the threat was very evident.
"This is our traditional patrol route and frontline observation post! You can't set up a base here without negotiation! This is our land!"
"Traditional? Haha!"
Sanders laughed as if hearing something utterly ridiculous, showing a set of white teeth.
He flicked the barrel of an AK rifle held by a militiaman dismissively and mocked:
"Natives, wake up. Your Commander has reached an agreement with the US Army, and now, the security here will be handled by more professional people. Your kids' play 'traditional' patrols can move elsewhere, find a safer place to play."
His words carried a condescending racial superiority and a complete disregard for local armed forces, like gasoline poured on an already blazing fire.
"What did you say?!"
"Bastard!"
"Get off our land!"
The militiamen were furious, shouting and fully raising their rifles, the clattering of chambers being cocked echoed, with black muzzles aimed directly at Sanders and his nearby subordinates.